


Exceptions

by broadwayturtle



Series: Of Mice and Men: Postscript [1]
Category: Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
Genre: DON'T WORRY NOBODY DIES, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, broadwayturtle, georgeslim, slimgeorge, yay i dont feel like disgusting trash for shipping this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayturtle/pseuds/broadwayturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Post-story. Sorry, no live Lennies here.)</p>
<p>George stays working at the ranch and develops a hella freakin' manly romance with Slim. That's uh...that's basically it. (Okay fine, he stays at the ranch to guilt trip himself for killing Lennie. But the hella freaking romance is there. You know, to help him let go. Woop.) Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crying

**Author's Note:**

> ok so ajflalfkhdskdgklfdhgjahdkgfhdaghkf ive been planning to write this for literally thREE YEARS but i just never found the time, motivation, or inspiration so HERE U GO HOT OFF THE PRESS MAY OR MAY NOT EDIT LATER, FIRST CHAPTER IM KINDA PROUD FEEL FREE TO PROVIDE FEEDBACK OR WHATEVERS HOPE U ENJOY IF NOT THEN OH WELL IM KEEPING UR MONEY KBYE.

Of all the secrets George had, his best-kept secret was that he cared.

He cared about Lennie; cared when he died, cared when he had to shoot his best friend, his hands shaking and his conscience making a sick feeling rise up from his stomach to his throat. He’d cared about Lennie more than he’d ever admit, so naturally, he never admitted it.

The bar became his best friend. He drank and drank and drank. He drank to numb the pain, but that was okay, because he knew it would always give him a headache from Hell the next morning. He deserved it, after all; he was a murderer. He was a murderer, so he drank, and he worked, and he tortured himself by staying in that same town, in the same ranch, in Lennie’s favorite place—the barn—to remember. He talked rarely, but didn’t stop conversations if they started. He never smiled, but he never cried either. He worked, he drank, he frowned, he remembered. Lather, rinse, repeat.

“Hey.”

George looked up from his game of solitaire to see Slim standing over him, one hand holding his hat and the other on his hip. George merely looked back to his cards and grunted, a sound that could have meant “hey” or “go away”. He didn’t really mind talking to Slim though.

“So when’re you gonna stop mopin'?” Slim crouched right in front of George and shuffled his cards around. This, of course, annoyed the hell out of him. He glared up at Slim.

“The hell do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He never could fool Slim. Everybody else, but never Slim. He always knew better somehow. George glared at Slim some more before looking down and away, sounding more vulnerable and quiet than he intended.

“…It ain’t something you just leave behind like that.” Slim nodded.

“I know.”

A pause.

“I killed him.” George grimaced.

“You did.”

“My best friend. My--my _family_.”

“That’s right.”

George drew in a ragged breath, feeling the emotions he'd been suppressing for an entire year suddenly rear their ugly heads all at once.

“I miss him.” His voice cracked.

“Of course.” Damn that Slim. Always so calm. You could shoot him in the leg and he’d still smile at you and tell you it was ok, it wasn't really your fault.

“I _shot_ him.” George’s face contorted into an expression somewhere between disgust and panic, and he knew right then he was about to cry. For some odd reason, he didn’t care. So he gave up trying to hold it back and let out a harsh, choked sob.

“Theeeere it is.” He pulled George to him and let him cling and cry. Bastard had been egging him on, trying to get him to do it. If it were anyone else, he’d be unspeakably angry. But it was Slim. And Slim was always the exception.

Apparently there was so much pent up guilt that it took him hours to cry it all out. He told Slim everything, told him how ugly he'd been feeling, told him stories about the antics Lennie would get himself into. George didn't remember when he'd passed out, but he woke up still in the barn, with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body. He brought an arm over his eyes and cracked the first smile he’d had in a year.

_God damn that Slim._


	2. Laughing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George punches Slim. Romance ensues. Also apparently George's favorite word is moron. What a tsunbaby. P.S. sleepy George is best George. Hnnnnng cutiepie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHGAHAHAGGHGHHHHHH OK SO FIRST OFF THANK YOU ALL SOSOSOSOSO MUCH FOR READING THIS I NEVER THOUGHT ANYBODY WOULD EVEN READ IT BESIDES LIKE 3 OF MY FRIENDS. I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT EVEN IF IT'S JUST LEAVING KUDOS OK THANK U I REALLY DO APPRECIATE YOU MANY SMOOCHES TO YOU ALL.  
> Ahem.  
> Anyway can I just mention that this ship is rUINING MY GOSH DANG _L I F E_ ugh I haven't been able to focus in class, I spent like a third of my math class writing this thing in my notebook and I couldn't focus in English bc I was thinking about how I'm going to organise this and write the chapters and the sex scenes and fluff and ugh. So excite for this, you guys have no idea. ;___; Like. I haven't written in forever bc I have absolute zero confidence in my writing most of the time. Like, zero degrees Kelvin. 2cold4me.  
>  But yeah so it really does mean a lot to me, both writing this and receiving feedback. Let me know if I missed a word or something (like "was" instead of "what"...I barely managed to catch that), I try to proofread but I'm always kinda sleep-deprived. Don't let me look like a dumb pls!! ;A;  
> Enough with my rambling, HERE IS THE CHAPTER FOR YOUR KIND, LOVELY SOULS. <3

Neither of them mentioned it the next day, save for a mutual nod and smile—an easy, laid-back smile from Slim, and a tentative twitch of the lips from George. He expected to be angry or at the very least annoyed, but all the sobbing actually helped him; he’d had a skip in his step ever since he woke up. He even whistled as he worked, raising more than a few eyebrows with his sudden joviality. Smiling didn’t feel natural, not yet, but he felt damn good.

His mood stayed with him till the end of the workday, at which point his mind decided to ruin everything with a single thought that set off a chain reaction.

_Killers don’t get to be happy._

His face fell.

_It should have been you instead._

_Murderer. Sinner._

_You should have done the decent thing and shot yourself too._

The anger came back and he stalked off to the barn, hating himself once again. He stood in a corner and fumed, letting the familiar burning, gnawing sensation take over. He scowled and drew his lips into a tight line.

And then someone came up next to him and pinched his nose closed, forcing him to breathe through his mouth.

He whirled around and punched so fast that he didn’t realize it was Slim until it was too late.

“Ow…” He staggered back a few steps.

“Shit!”

“Aagh…”

“Slim!” George’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he frowned and shook off his hand. The shock soon subsided into a confusing mix of worry and anger, and George slapped Slim upside the head.

“The hell do you think you're _doing_ , you god damn _moron_?!”

“OW!” Slim pouted. “I was just playin' around,” he whined, rubbing the spot where George had slapped him.

“What are you, five?!”

“Maybe…” George narrowed his eyes.

“You want me to punch you again?”

“All right, fine. I’m _definitely_ five.”

“ _Asshole_.” The word was harsh, but even as he said it he was grinning and laughing. He noticed Slim cradling his jaw and moving it around, frowning slightly. His grin faded to a small pinprick of a smile as he stepped in to have a closer look.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let me _see_ , you _moron_.” He gently moved Slim’s hand from his face and replaced it with his own, lightly trailing his fingers across Slim’s cheek. Slim’s eyes fluttered closed in what he _assumed_ was pain.

“That hurt?” It sounded quieter and more concerned than he’d intended it to sound.

“Not much,” Slim muttered, his eyes still closed.

“This?” George poked him, hard, and his eyes shot open.

“Ow! Again?” He flinched and cowered, a small pout on his lips. It was a ridiculous sight, really—Slim, the mysterious, sophisticated manly man that all the ranch hands looked up to— _that_ Slim, looking like a child about to cry. George couldn’t help it; he laughed. He laughed and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. They wound up on the floor, leaning against the wall and each other, wiping tears from their eyes. It dawned on George that Slim had again managed to drag him out of his self-loathing stupor. He didn’t even feel guilty about being happy either. He decided that was a good thing, at least for now.

When they’d gotten their breath back, Slim casually slung an arm around George. For some reason, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Were it anyone else, he’d have shoved him off and cussed up a storm. But it was Slim, and Slim was warm and comforting and _just something else entirely_ , so he scooted closer instead, leaning into him and closing his eyes.

“Lennie was a cuddler too,” George muttered matter-of-factly.

“He was?”

“Yeah. Didn’t understand what personal space is. I didn’t much mind...he was still a kid in his head, after all.” George shrugged with his free shoulder. “’S what kids do.” He paused, remembering. “Never let him do it in public though.”

“Mm. That makes sense.”

“You don’t talk about yourself real often.”

“…I don’t usually, no.”

“Why?” It was more of a yawn than a sentence.

“Well…I guess ‘cause up until now, you never asked.”

“Mm. Tha’s true…” There was a pause as he almost drifted to sleep, then woke up when Slim shifted slightly. “Mmmbut. I’m askin' now.” He wasn’t sure when Slim had started stroking his hair, but he decided he liked it. It sent a weird tingling feeling all the way down his spine and it so relaxed him that he had to fight to stay awake. He supposed they looked at least a little bit queer, two men sitting and cuddling, murmuring to each other. Was it a queer thing? Was George queer? He was too tired to care. All he knew was that he only ever felt relaxed around Slim, damn everyone else and what they thought. He fell asleep to the sweet cadence of Slim’s words, tales of city streets and absent mothers resonating in his ears.

Slim was gone in the morning, though he'd taken the same courtesy as before and laid George down with a pillow.

George woke up with the ghost of Slim’s hands in his hair, missing his warmth and his voice, but he didn’t dare admit it to anyone.

Not even himself.


	3. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slim's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so can I say again that this fic is rUINING my LIFE sQUAWKS LOUDLY ugh ugh. I spent my entire weekend writing this instead of doing my assignments (it's ok, I still have like...3 hours to do them...cry). Also I'm just gonna put this out there: comments mean *A LOT* to me. I'm not gonna lie, I've been checking this thing *religiously* every day just to see any change in it lol. Kudos are great, but knowing that someone took the time out of their day to give me a compliment is always fantastic and makes my day. ;w; Also I find it important to mention that I listened to Before I Start Dreaming by Anchor & Braille all throughout writing this chapter lol. You can give it a listen and see why. :P  
> That being said, again, be sure to (kindly) inform me if I made a mistake! I'm probably going to go back and edit anyway, but I want to get this up for you guys as soon as I can, so I'm just uploading it now, as-is.  
> That's it for my rambling, HERE IS CHAPTER 3 FOR YOUR LOVELY BEAUTIFUL EYES (shut up, yes they are, they are beaUTIFUL EYES).

Slim wasn’t sure when he’d—for lack of a better phrase—fallen in love. Maybe it was love at first sight. Maybe it was gradual, after gaining George’s trust and seeing what kind of a person he was.

Whatever or whenever it was, all he knew was that it had happened and he couldn’t go back.

Slim loved everything about him.

He loved that George never went out of his way to talk to anyone but him.

He loved the rare smiles that George let slip before he remembered that he was supposed to be unhappy, the way that the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly even if his mouth didn’t show it. He loved the way the sunlight hit his face and turned his irises a shade of golden brown that made it hard for Slim to focus on his job, loved the way he wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran his hands through his hair. He even loved the way he looked when he was angry, though he much preferred a happy George to an angry George.

He loved deeply and he hid it well.

He touched as much as he could, but never more than he needed.

He took sweeping glances of his surroundings, making sure to come off as “observant” instead of “eager to catch a glimpse of the man he loves”.

He was there when he was needed and even when he wasn’t, and though he did more than a typical coworker or friend would do, it was nothing out of the ordinary. He would rub comforting circles on George’s back when he threw up for the umpteenth time, bring him a glass of water and call him an idiot. Sometimes he would make George skip drinking entirely, distract him with a game of poker or convince him to go on a walk and have a (mostly one-sided) conversation. Things like that. The workers called him fatherly, joked that George was a terrible son. They had no idea how far off the mark they were.

It saddened him, really, to see how terrible George always was to himself. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that everything George did was meticulous and specially designed to make himself as miserable as possible. He saw the drinking and the antisocial behavior for what it was: an extended guilt trip for killing Lennie. Murder was a bad thing, of _course_ , but he understood why George did it and didn’t think he should hate himself so much for it. Maybe Slim was biased, but that was what he thought.

So he did what he could to make George smile. Sometimes all he got was a sad little smile, a small twitch of the lips, but that was enough. As long as he gave George a reason not to kill himself, he was fine. He carried on like that for a long time, but something in him started to snap. It seems just being around him was not enough after all.

So one day he overstepped his boundaries, tried to talk to George about what happened. He’d expected harsh words and harsher fists.

He’d gotten tears and a chance to hold him.

He tried again the next day, put his arm around George’s shoulders so casually that it didn’t look like his heart was beating a million miles in his chest. He’d expected a shove, an accusation. What he got was _acceptance_.

He decided it was okay to keep pushing his boundaries a little.

They kept meeting in the barn. It wasn’t the best place, but no one ever really went there, so it was a good place to be.

Sometimes they sat and talked, sometimes they played cards, but every time ended with George falling asleep in Slim’s arms. It was equal parts agonizing and thrilling, being so close to George, and yet so far. He didn’t dare to try and develop any kind of romance, but his mind couldn’t help but wander whenever George was asleep and cuddled up to him. 

He felt selfish, having so much and still wanting more, but after a while he once again found he couldn’t hold back. He started kissing George in his sleep; nothing impure, just small, ephemeral pecks on his forehead, or his nose, or his cheeks, but never his mouth.

He didn’t know that George could feel them.


	4. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George gets dreamy. Things get steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!!
> 
> At long last, chapter 4!! Lol, it had been in my notebook for a while, about 90% written but as you know, I hadn't found the energy to finish it and copy it down until now. Shoutout to my friend Storm for helping me type it out!! I'm going to be keeping the comments here and just replacing the chapter content, so I can still see the awesome support you guys have given me! I'm kinda stuck on what to make the next chapter, so just bear with me, and in the meantime you can also maybe follow my other OMaM fanfic (Attractions)? ;v; //shameless self promotion I know,,,

George wasn't sure what to do about the kisses.

He thought they were imagined at first--a trick of the mind in his half-asleep state. They were so light that he could even have chalked them up to be one of those annoying sleep itches, were it not for the touching that came with them. The touches were also light, but they were unmistakably _fingers_ , unmistakably _Slim's_ fingers. They ran through his hair, skimmed the sides of his face, traced along his lips like sweet little ghosts. Each kiss would never last more than a second, and at the end there was always a long, sad sigh that tickled George's neck before Slim left. Sometimes he struggled to keep his breath in check. He hoped Slim didn’t notice every subtle suspenseful hitch, because he’d have no god damn idea what he'd say. He tried not to think about it, but those fingers awakened something in George that he’d never known; it was a fire that went beyond simple lust, a flame that burnt in his core and ate at his heart. In his dreams he’d feel those fingers trailing down his stomach, those lips and those sighs hot on his neck as they moved and pressed against each other, breathing hard and cursing in between moans. He would wake up sweaty and ashamed, and thankful that he slept alone.

George started avoiding Slim, mumbling poorly constructed excuses and rushing past every time Slim tried to talk to him. He saw a hint of hurt in Slim’s eyes every time he did it, but he just couldn’t bear to face him. He felt confused, guilty, and ashamed, and he wasn’t even sure why. He should have been angry--angry that Slim had kissed him without his permission, angry that Slim had forced his deepest feelings out of him and made him cry, angry that Slim had somehow managed to worm his way into his life and now his heart.

But he wasn’t angry, not one bit.

...Why wasn’t he?

George had never figured himself to be queer. He’d had girlfriends, he’d had sex, and he’d enjoyed all that (before Lennie drove them away every time, that is). In the end he decided he didn’t have the time for romance. Somehow though, Slim had opened the god damned floodgates. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. Why did it have to be him to make George's heart sputter and flip in his chest? What were his motives? How long had he had feelings for George?

_Shit._

_How long?_

The thought echoed in his head, saddening him. How long had Slim been holding back, biting his tongue and taking care of a drunken ingrate who never even properly thanked him? How long had he been in love with no hope of it ever being returned? He was so busy brooding that he didn’t notice Slim walk into the barn until he stood awkwardly next to him, hands in his pockets, close enough for George to feel his warmth. George was suddenly acutely aware of how close Slim was, how close he’d always been and how close George wanted him to be. Which was far away--far, _far_ away. _Definitely_. Of course. Obviously. He wanted nothing to do with Slim, hated his puppy dog eyes and his stupid smile, hated his secret kisses, hated the way his hands made him feel electric and alive and deserving of love. He hated it so much that he crossed his arms and stayed there.

“…So,” Slim rocked back on his heels, then settled down again. “Nice weather.” 

“It’s rainin’, jackass.”

“So it is.”

A heavy silence sat between them for some moments, until George’s nerves got the best of him and he stomped right in front of Slim and poked him in the chest.

“I need some god damn answers,” he snarled. Slim looked thoroughly confused, but he tilted his head and nodded.

“Sure.”

George froze, his finger still pointing at Slim. He didn’t even know what he wanted to ask, so he just blurted out whatever came to mind.

“How long…?” Again, his voice betrayed him, showing the concern and confusion behind his anger. He lowered his hand slowly, defeated. He never could lie to Slim. He wasn’t angry at anyone but himself.

“How long what? How long’s a day? If you wanna know, its 24—“

“No, jackass. I meant how long since you…got feelings. For me.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I don’t know what you—“

“Quit lyin’, Slim, I felt you kissin’ me in my sleep,” George snapped at him.

Slim’s eyes widened. He blinked once, twice, and then smiled the saddest smile George had ever seen. It was like all the life had gone out of his eyes, but that wasn’t even the worst part; the worst part was the immediate resignation, the jaded look that said this had happened several times before, with the outcome always the same.

“I understand,” he said as he nodded, that heartbreaking smile still on his face. “I’ll get out of your hair. You won’t see me again. I just need you to do one thing for me.”

He put his hands on George’s shoulders and they were warm and steady. George had a split second vision of what those hands could do to him, then Slim seemed to realize George might not like being touched by him—he did—and removed his hands. 

“Please…don’t tell anybody,” he begged, shoulders tense, hands in anxious fists at his sides. He waited a couple of seconds for an answer, but George was too shocked to give one.

 

Slim sighed and started to walk away.

 

George’s breathing sped up.

 

If he walked away, he was never coming back.

If he walked away, that was it.

It would be like he’d never existed.

_I don’t want that._

_I don’t want to go back._

_I don’t want to have nothing to live for._

George snapped out of his haze and found himself gripping Slim’s arm.

 

 

_“Stay.”_

 

 

 Slim turned around.

 

George stepped in close and lightly trailed his fingers across Slim’s face like a blind man trying desperately to memorize it. He settled one hand in his hair and let Slim hold the other hand to his face. Slim closed his eyes and exhaled sharply through his nose, his face etched with pain and relief. George swallowed the lump in his throat, but his voice still came out shaky and broken like the first time.

 

 

“ _Stay.”_

 

 

Slim opened his eyes and looked at George with a pleading, fragile hope. 

“Do you mean it?” His voice was deceptively steady, as it always was.

“I—“George’s voice broke again. He didn’t have all the fancy words that Slim did, so he had no idea what to say. He chose instead to show how he felt.

He looked into Slim’s eyes, then at his lips, and then he _did_ it. He kissed him. He grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him and then Slim’s hands were in his hair and on his waist, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper and it was better than any dream he could have had. When they parted for air, Slim kissed George on the forehead and rested his chin on George’s head. He felt Slim sigh before he spoke, and for the first time ever, his voice cracked.

“I never thought…not in a million years…I—“he held George tighter, “Are you sure you, uh--" he swallowed the lump in his throat-- "...wanna do this? You can’t tell anybody. We can’t be a normal couple.” 

George laughed. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I ain’t into all that sappy stuff anyways.” 

Slim’s soft laughter reverberated through him and George’s breath caught in his throat before coming out as a single, “heh”, then growing into another ecstatic laughing fit for the both of them. George threw his arms around Slim’s neck and they kissed each other’s faces and necks, still grinning like a couple of idiots. Soon they slowed and the kisses grew deeper, lasted longer. Slim moaned and pinned George against the wall. He slid one hand up George’s shirt, drinking in the twitch of his hips, the sound of his name on George’s lips, the little sighs he was making—

And then he stopped.

"George, we can't--"

George barely even registered the words. He kept kissing Slim, clawing at his shirt, dragging his nails across his back, grinding his hips against him—

"George," Slim growled, crushing his lips against George's as his hands wandered to his ass and pressed into it, and _god_ , his self control was weakening... "What if somebody sees?" He nipped George's earlobe.

"I ain't give a _god damn_." He hooked a leg around Slim's waist.

“ _Fuck,”_ was all Slim could think. He rammed his hips into George's, trying desperately to restrain himself but failing when he heard George's fervent moans. He'd waited _forever_ for this and he never wanted it to end—which was exactly what would happen if they were caught.

 _I can afford to wait a bit more,_ he chided, forcing himself to calm down.

The effort it took not to ravage him then and there made Slim shake badly, but he managed to tear himself away just in time to hear Crooks walk in. Quickly he dragged George into a nook between one of the empty stalls and the wall, hoping to God that Crooks wouldn't see them. Thankfully, he didn't; he just took a few moments to change his clothes on the other side of the barn, muttering something about "Those damn racist shitholes".

They hid with bated breath until they heard Crooks shuffle back out, still grumbling quietly. They sighed. 

There was a long pause before George broke the silence, still wide-eyed.

"...All right. Okay," he shook a hand through his hair. "I give a god damn."


End file.
